Walking With Captain Trips
by L.ithJayhawk
Summary: The government accidentally unleashed the deadliest piece of biological warfare ever, a superflu called Captain Trips. Those who aren't immune don't live to tell the tale, and those who are wish they weren't...
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER:** "Newsies", and all characters of the movie sadly belong to Disney, not me. The Stand is property of Stephen King or whatever company publishes his books. Once again, nice things I do not own. I do, however, own myself (The Nameless Wonder) and Pidgeon. My buddy Revy owns Cobalt.  
  
**EARLY SHOUTOUTS!:** Yay to **m-e lee12** and **Brownie/Melody** because they fuel my Newsies-verse!!! And support my writing and artistic "talents"! Also yay to my **dad** for letting me secretly rent Stephen King movies while my mom is out and letting me steal his SK books!!! (However, yay to **KK** for getting me the particular copy of The Stand: The Complete and Uncut Edition which I own!!)  
  
**Walking With Captain Trips  
**  
_Prologue  
_  
All I've heard is rumors. They say the disease came out of the west. Some even pinpoint it, say it came from California or New Mexico or whatever other state they choose. I don't think anybody really knows what happened.  
  
That doesn't mean we don't have a pretty good idea.  
  
Most people point fingers at their government. Or what used to be their government. Not too many people left up on Capitol Hill now. Five days ago they were all there, pointing fingers back, denying the lot of it. Not answering our questions. Seizing the radio stations and newspapers and television signals of the people who dared to say _they_ created the superflu, to say that _their_ scientists dreamed up Captain Trips, the most deadly and contagious disease ever known to man.  
  
Running around around barking at each other like paranoid little chihuahuas.  
  
They did it, all right... or at least knew something we didn't. Whatever that was, it must not have helped them much, because people were still dying left and right, no matter how rich or poor or their job or position in society.  
  
How's that for leveling the playing field?  
  
It was kind of awe-inspiring, really, until people went crazy. Mugging, looting, gang wars and prositition and greed and desperation and panic and depression unlike anything I've ever seen, even in New York. Lucky for those of us waiting around for our time to die, that didn't last long. 'Cause eventually their time ran out. Time usually ran only from a few hours to a few days at most once you knew you had Trips.  
  
And then everything was just quiet.  
  
You don't know what it's like to be in this city when it's quiet.


	2. 1: Alone

**DISCLAIMER**: (See Prologue)  
  
**SHOUTOUTS**:  
  
**Thumbsucker Snitch** - Ahh!! SK rocks my socks.... The Stand is awesome... I have the movie. Hehe. Haven't read/seen Misery yet... but I'll have to now. Thanks muchly!!  
  
**m-e lee12** - Yesh, I noticed I misspelled it... still trying to work out the kinks in this new compy, and sadly, my only word processing program is Microsoft Works. Which has no nicely functioning spell check. So now you have my excuse. And btw, you NEED to write the Mushee-Doggy ficcie... b/c it could be mucho HILARIOUSO, too... I LOVE YOU, YOU SHITHEAD!!  
  
**Brownie/Melody** - Go kick their butts in soccer! w00t! GOOOO MARQUETTE!!! haha... you saw my planning outline, you bad child. how're you supposed to be surprised, now? (P.S. - doesn't everyone LOVE my annoying notebook entry?)... have some acid animal crackers... I can't get dutchy to lend me his crack  
  
**Blue Raja** - LOL, your cruelty is overlooked... as Crutchy annoys me to no limit (except for when he's spazzing out throwing papers... that's about his only redeeming quality) hehe, and i'm wondering how i'm gonna do this, too (welllll, I have an idea, but...) we'll just have to see how it goes, eh?  
  
**Strawberri Shake** - Wow! It seems people love my idea! hugs self well, since the prologue got ya hooked, here's more for you to read!!  
  
Mucho thanks for reviewin', everyone... really boosts my confidence and makes me not wanna quit writing ;) hands out animal crackers, PB M&Ms, and Frulatis  
  
**Walking With Captain Trips**  
  
_Chapter One  
_  
Strange as it may sound, it was the quiet that woke me up. The quiet and the smell of smoke. And death. It was that bad. I live in an apartment by myself, I sure has hell hadn't let anyone in this week, and that crawly skin death feel was still everywhere. It was driving me crazy. Call me paranoid, but I've been taking two or three showers a day to try to shake off that feel, but still it was clinging to me no matter how many times I'd rubbed my skin raw. You'd think I'd figure out it wasn't coming off, but I guess the insanity is setting in. Maybe I had been shut in this place too long.  
  
Or maybe it was because everyone but me is dead.  
  
My parents have been dead, since before Captain Trips. My neighbor's dead; I saw him die. My girlfriend's dead; she kicked me out so I wouldn't have to see her die. And now, looking out my window, I could see people dead in their cars and dead on the sidewalk and dead on the fire escapes with rain falling on all of them. Trips had got them all, but not me. I never even sneezed.  
  
So what was I supposed to do now? What _do_ you do when you're the last guy on Earth?  
  
I got out of bed. And got dressed. Just like every morning. Then I sat back down, stared around my apartment at the empty chairs and empty rooms and the lonely couches and tables. Just me alone. And I thought I knew what it was like to be depressed. Just me alone and there wasn't a thing I could do about it.  
  
Shuffled over to the fridge. Nothing there. Cabinets. Those were empty, too. A week locked in my apartment, and I had nothing left. I had to leave. Had to go out into the dead city.  
  
"Shit."  
  
I didn't want to go out there.  
  
"Shit."  
  
But I had to go sometime.  
  
"Shit."  
  
Got my knife. And my keys. Stubbed my toe on the way over to the door. Not a good sign, I probably shouldn't go. But if I let myself stay here now, I'd never leave, I'd die of starvation, then I'd be no better off than any of the others.  
  
Not a bad plan, actually.  
  
Undid the bolt on the door, then flipped the lock. The hallway wasn't empty. But you could hardly call the company enthralling. Apparently people who didn't want to see their dead roommates had dropped them outside the door. I grimaced at that unpleasant thought. Probably too sick to take them anywhere else.  
  
And with the whole city dying, I guess there wasn't many other options anyway.  
  
Trying to keep from breathing in that horribly sweet decaying smell, I hurried with held breath down the hall to the stairs. I didn't want to find out what was in the elevator, and I certainly wasn't riding down fourteen floors with it. I nearly made it to the stairwell, to. Would have if it weren't for the lights.  
  
They flickered in a vain attempt to stay on, then kicked it just like everything else around here. Overheads, emergency lights, everything. Not even the stupid red exit sign was lit. And with my God-given luck, this is when my feet decide to hit something stiff and fleshy and bloated sprawled across the floor. And with my luck, my balance decides to fail me as well, and I went down on top of it.  
  
There was a sickening crunch as I landed, my face up against who knew what, and the smell alone was enough to make me forget all my thoughts of going to the grocery store. The only thing I could think of was getting off of this horrible rotting... _thing _beneath me, get away from it's cold skin and gagging smell. I scrabbled for the floor, touched more flesh before I got there, and finally managed to pull myself away. And once I was on my feet, I immediately got rid of yesterday's dinner and probably lunch as well.  
  
Looking back, I'm only glad the darkness didn't let me see anything but shadows... 


	3. 2: Finding Dutchy

**DISCLAIMER**: (See Prologue)  
**_SHOUTOUTS_**:  
**m-e lee12** - haha... it's not davey. sowwie. but you'll be finding that out soon. (so you didn't hear it from me) but... mrs. hotze definitely had some big-ass knife... sadly i missed it, tho... but bengtson can verify, fudgehead  
**Brownie/Melody** - I got freakin' SOAKED when the rain came... had to walk the 1/2 block (oh wow) or whatever home... but i was like a drowned rat... but.... i stole dutchy's crack, sorry... he was about to OD. sadly.... then i would cry b/c there'd be no mouse-dutchy

**Walking With Captain Trips  
**  
_Chapter Two  
_  
I staggered over to the doorway and leaned against it, the handle digging into my spine, but I was too busy trying to spit that sour taste out of my mouth without being sick again to care. Looking up, that stinking pitch black tunnel mocked me. I turned and pushed open the door until it got caught on something on the other side. Squeezing through, I found the stairwell was not an escape either; I could make out two vague shadowy figures humped on the stairs, and the thing blocking the door made three of them. A grotesque claw-like hand clutched stiffly at the handle. A moan escaped my throat as I slumped into the corner, head between my knees. What had I done to deserve this torture? I couldn't even escape from my own apartment to get a bowl o cereal without wading through dead bodies.  
  
I grabbed the railing and pulled myself up, shaking as I made my way down the steps, skirting the outreaching hands and avoiding their glassy-eyed stares. The silence was deafening, pressing in on my ears. But as I got further down, I could hear someone crying loudly.  
  
I figured it was me.  
  
But I couldn't feel my breath being wasted on those sobs. And it wasn't my eyes blurring with tears. Someone else had to be doing it.  
  
Someone else had to be _alive_.  
  
"Hello?!"  
  
The crying cut off, but I could still hear sniffling at the bottom of the stairs. I started taking the steps two at a time; I had to find the person. The other person that lived.  
  
"Hello?!?"  
  
"...hello...?"  
  
The answer was quiet and hesitant, in a familiar voice, but because of the tone I almost didn't recognize it. Almost. But I recognized the person who stood up at the bottom of the stairs.  
  
"Dutchy!!"  
  
The blonde boy stared at me numbly, eyes red and puffy, telltale signs of crying. I couldn't believe it- for once I was just a bit lucky. I found someone, someone who wasn't dead at that, and it was Dutchy, who I'd known my entire life. We grew up in the same orphanage, for Christ's sake.  
  
"Skittery?"  
  
Wow. Now there was a name I hadn't heard in a long time. I guess I hadn't called him anything but Ivan or Ive for the past few years. We must have been really desperate. How sad. But Dutchy looked about as miserable as I felt.  
  
"Yeah... hey, Dutch... you didn't get Trips?"  
  
Well duh he didn't... what a stupid question, Skitts. But I had to say something.  
  
Dutchy swallowed and nodded, but I could see the tears welling up in his eyes again. "Yeah, but Mark..."  
  
Oh no. Not Mark. Mark. Specs. Another orphanage escapee, and Dutchy's boyfriend since they were like, eleven. Losing Christine was bad for me, but I'd only been with her for a year, and to be honest, I wasn't all that faithful... but Dutchy and Specs were inseparable. They could barely function without each other.  
  
Dutchy was crying again, and it was awkward, but I put an arm around his shoulders and he immediately leaned into my shoulder, whimpering.  
  
"Dutchy... Dutchy, man, I'm sorry..."  
  
"He was fine!" he sobbed, hard enough to shake both of us. "He was fine 'til yesterday... and then he jus' got so sick so fast..." Trips. What a bastard good old Captain Trips was. Perfect for killing off your enemies and you and breaking apart everyone's favorite gay couple. "...and I was gonna bury him, Skittery, but I just _couldn't_!! I feel so bad foah it, but I can't go back dere not now..."  
  
Poor guy. What had he ever done to deserve this? What had Specs done? Nice how the government doesn't think about us little guys when it shows off its special new technology, eh?  
  
"C'mon, Dutchy... we'll go back to my apartment..."  
  
Another trip through the stinking, pitch-black hellhole. What a bastard Captain Trips was... 


	4. 3: Alone Again

**DISCLAIMER**: (See Prologue)  
  
**SHOUTOUTS**:  
**m-e lee12** - wow. i finally get around to the next chapters. great what exemption hours get ya, ain't it? anyroad...procrastinating is definitely how I spent my entire finals week. so don't feel bad, shithead. and yes, you COULD call me those other things.... but we all know fudgehead is so much better.  
**Brownie/Melody** - looks confuzzled what's illegal? drawing anthro art? it's not like I'm screwing a picture, okay!! GRINS WAAAY TOOO BADLY yeah... ummm disregard that look. i was definitely playing poker on the bus. I'm waay proud of myself, too... but I have a shit poker face (that really just got pulled out of my ass, but hey)  
**Thumbsucker Snitch** - le sigh lol I'd love ta give ya what'cha want.... but... well... you'll just have to see! but much thanks, i love reviews...  
**Strawberri Shake** - hmmm.... perhaps. we will have to wait on pairings. and yesh, i am very ssad to have killed specs. but it's all part of the plan, you see (Specs: I'm not dead yet!) Yes you are! (I think I'm getting better!) Oh no you aren't, you'll be dead soon... (I feel happy!) hits over head w/ club  
  
roight-o, now on with the show!!  
oh yesh, and I think these chapters are shorter... but I'm not sure. shrugs blondely

* * *

**Walking With Captain Trips**  
  
_Chapter Three  
_  
The trip upstairs was hell. I mean, I expected it t be, but that doesn't really prepare you for that moment when the lights flicker on again and a rat the size of your shoe is tear the old lady next door's eyes out.  
  
"Oh _Jesus_!" I had yelled, and dropped my keys when I jumped, and the lights died again. Dutchy had just stood there in terrified, dumb silence. No tears, no anything really. He's still like that. Think he's in shock.  
  
Once again, I had to scrabble with a dead creature, this time for my keys. My fingers barely brushed the black-haired kid's skin, but my stomach had lurched dangerously and I turned away quickly and nearly broke my door in pushing it open, pulling Dutchy roughly inside after me.  
  
Which leaves us where we are now. Me, standing panting against a locked door and Dutchy standing stiffly and staring at the wall. I dragged myself over to a chair in my tiny, cramped kitchen and slumped down, laying my head on the table. Distantly, I heard Dutchy finally come around, saying awkwardly, "So... this's your apartment..." He sounded muffled, but it was probably my roaring ears and me trying not to pass out.  
  
"Yeah..." I glanced around at the sparsely furnished space. "I'd offer a drink, but..."  
  
"You're out, too?"  
  
I just nodded and he stared off into space for awhile. I had almost convinced myself to doze off and forget it all when he next spoke.  
  
"D'you think dere's others out there?"  
  
Blink. Lift my head. "What?"  
  
Dutchy... or Ivan... or Ive- screw it, he's Dutchy now. Always had been, I'd just forgotten it... he'd come closer now and he's fidgeting slightly. He knows how much I hate that kind of optimism. But this wasn't optimism, it was desperation.   
  
"I mean... you're alive... and I'm alive... and there... dere could be other people, too..." I stared blankly at him. "I mean, I just thought..."  
  
"Whatt're you suggestin'?"  
  
He sat down across from me, and dropped his pale blue eyes to the table then brought them back up to mine. "I'm not... I'm just... whatt'f there are?"  
  
"Then there are."  
  
He suddenly reached out and grabbed my shoulders and I shrank back from him out of surprise. "Well we gotta find 'em, then!!"  
  
"I'm not swimming through all those fucking disgusting dead things again!!"  
  
He stare at me a moment, eyes behind his glasses bulging, then shook me roughly. "Don't talk about them like that!" the blonde crazy that had replaced my friend yelled, then slumped over, sobbing wildly. "They're people! _People_! Specs was a PERSON!!" he cried, his voice rising rapidly then cracking in his despair. "You don't even get it! You don't understand!! You weren't _there_... with him! You locked yourself away in heah 'cause... 'cause... 'cause yoah too fucking scared!!" He released me, shoving me back, burying his head in his arms on the table and bawling. It was pathetic, and I was sorry... but he had touched a nerve.  
  
I jerked up from my chair and it fell over with a scraping sound and a clatter, and I yelled at him, "I'm not!! I'm not scared!!"  
  
Dutchy didn't answer, he was too busy mourning. I made a growling noise at him in my throat and stormed out of the kitchen to the front door. Slamming it behind me, this time I made it all the way down the stairs and out the lobby doors before my horror caught up with me. I hoped Dutchy hadn't gone after me... or left entirely. How great would that be to have the only other person left in the world angry at you? Angry... hell, he was probably jumping out of a window about now. Great job, Skittery.  
  
And now, leaning against the outside of the Dakota building in the heat of the dreary gray July drizzle, I realized he had been right. More than right. I was scared, and not just scared.  
  
I was more terrified than I had ever been in my entire life. Scared shitless. Terrified, even though I'd always insistently kept my distance.  
  
Terrified of being alone. 


	5. 4: Thanks for Nothing, Horace Greeley

**DISCLAIMER**: (See Prologue)

* * *

**Walking With Captain Trips**  
  
_Chapter Four  
_  
I couldn't stay there all day. My legs were starting to fall asleep from being still. I either had to go back up to my apartment or out into the dead city.  
  
I didn't think I could face Dutchy just then. So I started walking. Threading my way in between the stalled and crashed cars, my eyes averted from their occupants. I didn't really have a plan as to where I was going. I just wandered, staring into deserted shop windows, many of them broken, the stores looted. And apparently the whole city was powerless; I didn't see any lights.  
  
I had made it all the way to 5th Street before I really got ahold of myself. It was probably best to get something to eat while I was out here. And I still hadn't found any other survivors. Not that I was going to, but I guess it would be better to tell Dutchy I at least looked.  
  
I turned around and started heading back towards the grocery by my apartment building, but a familiar street caught my eye. One I hadn't been down in a long time. It was Finch Street, which opened up into Greeley Square, not far from the miserable little orphanage where I had once lived. The boys had alwayscome here to play rather than being cramped inside. There the old greening statue sat, perfect to climb on, the old man a silent witness to all the mistakes of the world around him. "Go West, young man," he instructed us. Well, we went West. Now look what came back East, Horace.  
  
I kicked the base of the statue. Take that for giving us some lousy advice. I was only rewarded with silence and a throbbing pain in my toes. Sighing, I turned to stare down the street at the decrepit building of the orphanage. Maybe it was some of that sick, sappy nostalgia, but I ended up wandering closer. Then closer. And closer still, until I was at the door. Well, if I'd come this far...  
  
For a moment, I had forgotten the dead bodies. The compressed stench that hit me when the door swung open with a screech was a painful reminder. I didn't have much time to dwell on it, though.  
  
"Who's dere?!" yelled a startled voice from up the stairs. I nearly fell over in shock. Dutchy had been right after all, there were still others.... "I said who's out dere?!" the boy called again, and I could hear him coming down the stairs to investigate.  
  
"It's me! It's... Skittery..."  
  
The other boy came into view, spooked Asian eyes studying me. "Skittery? Why'd you come back heah? I t'ought you'd said you'd never come heah again..."  
  
Oh. Right. That little detail. It wasn't important now; I pushed it aside. "Swifty. Swifty... you made it..."  
  
He nodded, with no great pride in the fact. "Yeah... me... me'n Mush, Snipeshooter, an' Kid Blink." A pause, then mournfully, "We'se all dat's left. Itey'n Snitch... we thought dey'd pull through foah a while, but... I'm shoah you saw it."  
  
Yeah. Yeah, I'd seen what Trips did. Even if I had been shut up in my room. You'd get worse and worse, then people'd get better, try to take themselves to the doctor. The next minute they were choking on their own throat mucus and crashed their cars. I hated to think of these boys like that. I had grown up with these kids. They were like brothers. Let me stop before I get sappy. I watched the floor silently for a moment, then muttered, "Dutchy's immune, too. He's at my apartment."  
  
"Immune...?"  
  
"He didn't get Trips."  
  
"Who's down dere, Swifty?" Little Snipeshooter's voice, wierdly deep for a kid his age. He appeared at the top of the stairs. "Hey! Skittery! Skittery came back!!" He charged past Swifty, nearly knocking him over, to hug me around the middle. A red-eyed and dissheveled Mush took his place at the top of the stairs, followed after a while by Blink.  
  
"Hey..." I said. It was all I could say.  
  
"Hey..." they said back, almost in unison. Then there was that awkward silence. Snipeshooter was looking around at all of the "big kids" questioningly, still hanging on my arm.  
  
"So what.... what happens now?" Blink questioned, his tone sounding a lot like mine. Mush flinched away from him.  
  
I shrugged. "We go home I guess. Make sure Dutchy's still there?"  
  
Soundlessly, they nodded their agreement, and drifted downstairs towards me like zombies, and the five of us wordlessly headed for the streets... 


	6. 5: The Infamous Spot Conlon

**DISCLAIMER**: (See Prologue)  
  
**SHOUTOUTS**:  
**m-e lee12** - once again, late chapters, eh? oh well, I DO have an excuse... it's called camp. but I definitely wrote another (hopefully longer) one!!! and... umm... I made new friends, shithead!!!  
**Brownie/Melody** - you are now phishco, y'know.... b/c that is a brill name foah you. Oh.... the raven.... I forgot it again. there WAS a rat, tho... haha like in Willard... (which you must watch as well) Wow... I haven't written since BRANSON!?!  
**Strawberri Shake** - woo it is so nice to have a loyal fan (brownie, emob... youse two don't count! tehe -hugs-) ahhh Dutchy, nooo! -runs to the bridge- oh wait... I control this story!!!  
  
**Walking With Captain Trips**  
  
_Chapter Five  
_  
The rain had stopped. Now it was just gray and muggy. I would have preferred the rain, especially in all this heat. Rain meant it wasn't as hot, there wasn't sun blinding you, and rotting flesh didn't smell as bad. I must have looked pretty down, because Mush came up to me and quietly asked if I was okay.  
  
"I've got ta be better than you guys."  
  
Mush just looked at me a moment and nodded, but rather than sticking around in his usual annoying but well-meaning way, he drifted back over to Blink's side. I watched as Kid tensed a moment, half-turning his head to see who it was, then calm and continue walking. It was an unspoken rule you didn't come up or walk on Blink's left side, where he couldn't see you. Mush was the exception to that rule. Anybody else who tried got chewed out right then and there. Today Blink didn't look up to even that, but that didn't convince me to try it or anything. Now wouldn't be a great time to have to find a new group of friends.  
  
"Skittery, where're we goin'?" Snipeshooter, trotting along on my other side.  
  
"T'my apartment, I guess..." I paused and looked around at the remaining boys, trying not to think about the others that should have been there among them. "...since we're out, anyone care if we head over to the store?"  
  
I looked around and everyone shook their heads, Swifty commenting, "Nah... why not? Don't got anywheah else t'go..."  
  
"Okay, good, 'cause I haven't eaten since... lunch yesterday? Somethin' like that..." I turned the corner, but didn't get much farther than that. "No way..." I muttered, staring straight ahead.  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's Spot..." Everyone crowded forward to get a look, and sure enough, the infamous spot Conlon and one of his cronies from the Brooklyn Boys' Home were on a streetcorner two blocks down. "...does the little shit _ever_ die?" The punk was about a foot shorter than me and I'm guessing weighed about half as much, yet it seemed when we were in the orphanage, you'd hear a new rumor every three days about some kid Spot had handed their ass. Nobody wanted to mess with him, unless they were stupid, or new and didn't know any better. The kid could jump off the Brooklyn Bridge and he'd probably still be ticking.  
  
Blink answered me. "Nah, but youse woulda been if he'd'ah heard ya."  
  
"Tyrant." I muttered.  
  
"No kiddin'... good to see him."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Hey SPOT!!" Kid yelled. The blonde boy on the other corner whirled around, the other guy with him copying the move a second later. A pair of slingshots were leveled at our small group. I doubted he could have got us with those things from this far away, but I yelled anyway,  
  
"Hey chill out! It's us! The 'Hattan boys!"  
  
His enormous sidekick lowered the weapon and pointed at us, talking to Spot, who nodded up at him and put the slingshot in his back pocket. The Brooklyn boy mimicked him and they started coming towards us. We met them halfway.  
  
"Heya Spot."  
  
"Heya boys."  
  
He spat in his hand and held it out, and I waited for someone to take it. No one did. I noticed then everyone was staring at me expectantly, Spot indignantly. Getting my act together, I spat in my own hand and completed the motion as I'd seen our leader, Jack, do many times. It made me uneasy, interacting with Spot like a leader. I wasn't a leader. Guys like Spot and Jack, they were leaders. Not me. Everyone was still staring, so I cleared my throat.  
  
"So uhh... spot. What'cha doin' so far from Brooklyn?"  
  
"What'cha t'ink I'se doin'!?" he barked. "What else's dere ta do?"  
  
"We'se lookin' foah people..." the other boy supplied. Spot's glare swung over to him, obviously in one of his legendary "moods."  
  
"Thanks, Pidgeon..." Spot drawled sarcastically.  
  
"Well didja find anyone?" I asked. Conlon shook his head.  
  
"We'se all dat's left from Brooklyn. Been t'Trenton, too. Nobody dere."  
  
Blink's face paled and his single eye fixed on Spot. "Nobody? Nobody at all? Are you serious?!" His voice rose and became frantic; he looked like a mad dog in his intensity.  
  
Spot's answer was blunt, insensitive as ever. "No. All dead. Everyone. Looks like 'Hattan got off easy..." He was such a prick.  
  
All the color had gone from Blink's face now, but faced with the Brooklyn leader, even Kid's loud mouth fell quiet. He just nodded.  
  
An awkward silence fell after Spot's words, and I looked uncomfortably to the rest of my crew, but they were all glaring at Conlon, save for Blink, who was studying the gutter. He looked like he might have been biting his lip. Like he might cry. But he stayed silent. I wondered what was going on to make him like that, but I didn't dare ask. Instead I said, "So it's just us?"  
  
"Yeah. Just us." Spot echoed. Mush put an arm around Blink.  
  
"Well we'se goin' ta Skittery's place." Snipes said, but there was a hard glint in his eyes.  
  
"Oh yeah?"  
  
"Yeah." I said, swallowing my loathing of the kid's insolence. Despite all his brash, rude, and condescending behavior, having a leader again might come in handy. And Spot was a damn good leader, if rumors could be believed. I think Snipeshooter knew that. I think we all did. "You wanna come up wid us or what?"  
  
He considered for a second, then nodded. "Yeah... yeah. An' if we find anyone else..."  
  
"We'll get them to come with us, too."  
  
"Yeah. What I was thinkin'. Now let's go."  
  
And that's how Spot Conlon took charge. 


End file.
